Bitter
by redrachxo
Summary: 'No wonder this was Loki's favourite wine: after the initial burst of seductive sweetness, it left nothing but bitterness in its wake.' As Asgard mourns the loss of their dark Prince, Sif recalls just how contradictory and dangerous he could be. Sif/Loki. Rated M for sexual content. Please R&R. xo
1. Chapter 1

_**1/6**_

_**I've always thought that there is a bit of sexual tension between Sif and Loki despite her apparent antagonism towards him. This fic is simply my take on that chemistry as well as the possible reasons for why Sif seems so quick to judge Loki in 'Thor'. This fic follows 'Disappointed' but you don't necessarily have to read it to understand the events of this one as it's mostly flashbacks. **_

_**Any reviews or feedback would be fantastic and very gratefully received. **_

_**I hope you enjoy xo**_

**Chapter 1**

The celebrations had been muted. The joy of Asgard's triumph was somewhat marred by the circumstances in which they had gained victory over the Dark Elves. There had been disbelief at first that Loki, the dark prince, the murderous sorcerer with the blood of both Jotunheim and Midgard on his hands, had chosen to sacrifice himself to close the breach. But few could deny Thor's account of events and gradually people's memories turned towards the past. They remembered the boy that had grown up in the palace, a quiet studious creature with a smile that could dazzle. The warrior that had fought for Asgard, whose silver knives darted through the air with deadly precision and who followed his brother without hesitation into the most dangerous of battles. The diplomat whose charm and wit could compare to no other, who could entice dwarves to make the impossible for Asgard and who could seduce women with no more than a few carefully selected words. Loki may not have been the brother that he was so jealous of but in choosing to focus on Thor's golden glory he had neglected to understand the many ways in which he had been appreciated for his own unique strengths.

It was strange, Sif mused, how it sometimes took loss and pain to recognise the value of what you once had. And yet, there was also a part of her that found it slightly distasteful, hypocritical even, to hear Loki lauded as a hero, as a courageous guardian who had made the ultimate sacrifice to protect his realm. It was as if after his death, they weren't allowed to remember the darker aspects of Loki's life. They were not to speak of how he had committed unspeakable acts of evil, of how he had murdered and plundered whilst upon Midgard, of how he had lied to his family and let them suffer in their mourning whilst he still lived and, most importantly in Sif's eyes, how he had tried – repeatedly – to snuff out the life of his brother. Thor who loved him so much.

Loki's final words continued to taunt his brother from beyond the veil of death. _'Your hand shall not be the one to slay me after all.'_ Thor's voice had been hoarse with anguish as he described his exchange with Loki that fateful evening in the prison cell. Of how he had told his own kin that he would kill him, of how he had made that threat and at the time had meant every word of it. _'I said when Sif, I said when.' _It made Sif's insides twist with rage to witness Thor's guilt, to see the pain in those vivid blue eyes and know that this was exactly what Loki had intended.

Of course, Thor had the Lady Jane to give him comfort. Even now, it pained Sif to glance up at the High Table, to see how Thor's blond head bent down towards Jane, how his fingers grazed against the blue silk of her sleeve, how his lips curved upwards in the smallest hint of a smile. He was so attentive towards the mortal woman, so deeply enamoured with her that it made Sif's heart ache just to watch them together. There had been many occasions, more feasts and balls than she cared to remember, where she had watched Thor flirt and dally with beautiful women. It had never failed to make her experience a stabbing sensation in her heart but that pain was nothing compared to this ache, this longing for something which could never be hers.

She had heard the rumours of course. The vicious insinuations whispered by some of the ladies in the court that she was jealous of the mortal woman because she was everything that a woman ought to be. And everything Sif was not. She had chuckled darkly at that last jibe. Anyone who said that clearly knew nothing about the Lady Jane. Oh yes, the mortal woman may look sweet and demure as she sat by Thor's side in the Great Hall but the truth was that they were so much more alike than any of the court could imagine. Both had entered male dominated professions. Both had succeeded against all the odds through sheer determination and bloody mindedness. Both were willing to defy societal expectations in order to achieve their dreams. And judging by the way the Lady Jane had pulled Thor in for that first kiss on Midgard, both of them were fearless in pursuing what they wanted - including men. The gossips were right about one thing though. Sif was jealous, deeply so, of Lady Jane for whatever made Thor love those qualities in her and only her.

With a barely restrained sigh, Sif turned her attention back to her goblet of wine. The dark red liquid sloshed over the golden sides as she raised it to her lips and took a hasty gulp. The taste of honeyed berries filled her mouth, the sharp flavours dancing on her tongue before fading away leaving a strangely bitter aftertaste in stark contrast to the initial burst of sweetness. The taste lingered on her lips as she licked them, evoking memories of the first time that she had tasted this particular wine. Of how the post-battle celebrations had been considerably more jubilant then. Of how Thor had flirted with the fairest of the Elven princesses, his booming laugh filling the Great Hall, his handsome face lit up with the joy of the hunt. And of how Loki's eyes, a mixture of dark sapphire and emerald in the candlelight, had met hers across the table.

* * *

_An outburst of giggles caused the younger Prince to glance disdainfully to his right. A dark eyebrow rose in a questioning manner as he caught the ending of Thor's jest. Evidently, Loki found it somewhat lacking in finesse as he turned away with an expression of boredom settling on his finely cut features. His thin lips quirked upwards as he met Sif's gaze, the two of them sharing a moment of amusement at just how easily the Elven princesses were charmed by a couple of old war stories that Thor trotted out on a regular basis._

_There was something else that night, something indefinably different about the way Loki's gaze flickered over her. If she wasn't mistaken, Loki's eyes seemed to darken with appreciation, his lips parting slightly as he raised his goblet to his mouth. At the sight of his tongue slipping out between his teeth to slither across the wine stains on his lower lip, Sif felt an undeniable but confusing spark of attraction ignite deep inside her. _

_Unsettled, she deliberately looked away and swiftly picked up on the banter flowing between the Warriors Three. As distracting and familiar as Fandral's jibes at Volstagg were, she couldn't resist the lure of glancing back at the High Table. Her disappointment at finding Loki's seat empty was soon replaced by annoyance as yet another round of laughter rang out from Thor's side of the table. Jealousy, dark and bitter, twisted within Sif's heart as she turned to see Thor cupping the pointed chin of an Elven maiden. She hated the woman for her breathless simpering over the God of Thunderer, she hated Thor for the way he looked so earnest and sincere as he smiled down at the princess and then as he caught Sif's glare, she hated him all the more for giving her a cheeky wink as if to boast man to man that he was feeling lucky tonight._

_She managed a brittle smile before turning her gaze downwards into the safety of the red wine swirling around in her goblet. She had no right to feel such a way. She was Thor's friend. His equal on the battlefield. Of course, he treated her the same as Hogan or the others. She doubted that he even saw her as a woman let alone as a potential lover. She drained the goblet with one decisive gulp. Perhaps it was time she changed that. _

* * *

_In her increasingly intoxicated state, it seemed entirely rational to get Thor's attention by flirting with the person who was closest to him. That was her main reason for approaching Loki as the dancing began. At least that's what she told herself. It had nothing to do with that strange moment of intensity earlier. Besides Loki was the safe option. He was trained in all the ways of chivalry, he would treat her like the lady her title proclaimed her to be, he would charm and issue sly compliments without once questioning why she wanted it to be so. Fandral would be declined to be hasty, to dispose of her so that he could move onto courting whatever lady he had set his sights on for this evening. Volstagg would prefer the company of the dessert table and Hogan, well, he would probably take it as an insult that he would ever engage in anything as frivolous as dancing. _

_A fleeting look of surprise passed over Loki's face as she came to a halt before him and bowed her head gracefully. An indication that she wished to partner him in the dance. Tradition dictated that she must wait for him to take her hand, it was a custom that Sif resented, she would far rather take control of the situation than wait for any man to do so. Peering up through her eyelashes at her friend's brother, she gave him a fierce look. One that said if he dared to embarrass her by rejecting her hand she would rip him apart in the practice arena tomorrow. It was hardly a seductive technique but from this angle Thor was unlikely to see whatever look she was giving his brother so it hardly mattered. _

_There was a brief pause, a moment where Loki looked uncertain, something Sif could hardly blame him for as she had never shown him the slightest bit of interest before now but there was nothing hesitant about the way his fingers curled around hers. It was odd in a way that she hadn't noticed until now how much strength there was in his hands or indeed how they were large enough to easily surround her own. There was an easy elegance to Loki's movements, a gracefulness to the way he led them on the dance floor that she hadn't previously credited him with. It was her turn to be hesitant as they joined the couples weaving across the floor. Whilst, she knew the basic steps, Sif was far more at home on the battlefield than on the dance floor. She feared that her ill-practised moves would be clumsy and uncoordinated particularly when compared with the fragile lightness of the Elven princesses. Loki's knowing smirk as he glanced down at her made Sif want to punch him. Hard. Preferably in the throat as it was the only part of him exposed and vulnerable right now. _

_His other hand trailed across the thin fabric of her gown before coming to rest in a most respectable position just below her shoulder blades. For some reason, that lightest of touches made electricity crackle over her skin. She hadn't been aware until now just how delicate her clothing was. The heat of his hand flowing through the silken material did nothing to dispel this sudden realisation. The metal of his arm plate was surprisingly cold as she laid her hand on his shoulder. Standing so close to him, mere inches separating their bodies and it was only now she noticed Loki's height. Had he always been so tall? He towered over her by at least a head and a half. He was Thor's equal in height if not perhaps a shade or two taller. _

_Thoughts of the older prince were soon banished from Sif's mind as they began to move across the dance floor. Loki was fluid and quick, his clever steps making up for her initial awkwardness, his hands subtly guiding her in one direction and then another. With such a skilful partner, Sif could almost deceive herself into thinking that she could actually dance. _

"_It's no different from the battlefield," Loki bent his head to murmur into her ear. His voice still managing to be so low that Sif had to move closer in order to hear him properly. His lips almost brushing against the curve of her ear as he continued. "No more than form of sparring." And when he put it like that, it did seem easier to understand the pattern and flow of the steps._

_When the music faded away, their bodies were perhaps closer than propriety dictated, their cheeks flushed with a colour that wasn't entirely down to the physical activity of dancing. In the softer lighting, Loki's eyes seemed impossibly dark but as usual his face was a blank slate with nothing to indicate that he felt the same urges stirring within as she did. As he released her and stepped back to give her a sweeping bow, Sif found that she felt a little unsteady on her feet without his support. She wanted to blame the wine that she had been drinking earlier but that didn't account for the biting sensation of anger as Loki turned to smile graciously upon another woman and take her hand for the next dance. _

_Later, much later, Sif would recollect the rest of that evening's events and find herself cringing with embarrassment at her actions. Thor's flirtatious behaviour and what must have been vats of wine were inadequate as reasons for what happened next. The only real explanation was Loki himself. It had been the way he laughed, white teeth flashing, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they exchanged barbed compliments. The way his thumb slid across the smooth skin of her back in a teasing caress before he released her on their third dance. It had been the fire that had started to smoulder when her body pressed against his, the hard amour and leather a delicious contrast to the softness of her gown. A fire which burned all the brighter when his long tapering fingers caressed hers, when she deliberately shifted against his lower body and felt him stir in response. She couldn't deny that the envious looks being sent her way were a factor. It was a heady feeling to know that a prince, even if it was not the one she truly longed for, favoured her over the royal beauties of __Álfheim. _

_When the royals moved to retire for the night and the crowds began to disperse, Sif found her stomach clenching with anticipation about what would happen next. Throughout the course of the evening, she and Loki had danced and drank together, their flirtation clear for all to witness just as she had wanted. Except, it hadn't been all play acting. She truly did desire the coolness of Loki Odinson's touch against her flesh. She had even begun to wonder if that lying tongue of his was as clever and skilful as the other maidens had giggled about. And the fact that he was Loki – Thor's brother? Well, that barely mattered to her at the moment. Sif had always taken a man's approach to such intimate matters, if she wanted something she went after it and that included whatever man she wanted to bed._

_As they departed the Great Hall, Sif found herself stepping in the direction of the royal chambers. It was with great irritation that she shook off the concerned hand that Fandral laid upon her shoulder. When he asked her in cautious tones if she was aware of what she was doing, she had given him a death stare that would have felled the most bloodthirsty of tyrants. As it was, Fandral had mustered a look of hurt before scurrying back into the arms of whatever maiden he had chosen to serve his ego this night. _

**Chapter 2 teaser:**

'_I will bed you as I wish.'_

_**Please do review and let me know what you think. Thank you! xo**_


	2. Chapter 2

**2/6**

_**Thank you to everyone who favourited or followed. It's fab to know that people are still interested. Special thanks to murdur and 'Guest' for reviewing, it is very much appreciated. **_

'_**Guest' I can't reply to you via PM but thank you for such an enthusiastic response, I'm really glad that you still want to read this.**_

_**This chapter is a bit more racy, I hope you enjoy it! xo**_

**Chapter 2**

_The palace guards had learned long ago to be discreet especially in regards to the younger Prince. There was a tendency for unpleasant things to happen to those who could not hold their tongue where Prince Loki's privacy was concerned. It didn't surprised Sif in the slightest then that the guards standing on duty outside Loki's chambers barely turned their heads to look at her. Their gazes remained impassive as they stared straight ahead allowing her to open the heavy doors and enter of her own accord. The Prince must have given them orders to permit her passage and this knowledge provoked a flash of temper in Sif. He had assumed she would come to him. How arrogant. Then again, given the way she had brushed her fingertips against his thigh earlier in the evening perhaps his assumption could be forgiven. _

_She had never been in Loki's chambers before now. There had never been any need for her to intrude upon his private quarters. They were much the same as Thor's except lighter and airier, Loki seemingly favoured subtle shades of gold and white with an occasional splash of rich emerald green over the rich, heavy drapes of Thor's room. Apart from his desk, which was covered in half open books, twisted bottles filled with colourful liquids and odd artefacts that probably didn't bear thinking about, the rest of Loki's room was almost unnaturally tidy. And empty._

_Her eyes narrowed with suspicion as she scanned her surroundings. Knowing Loki's perverse sense of humour, she wouldn't put it past him to pull a trick on her however sincere he may have appeared earlier. The soft click of the door opening behind her caused her to spin around quickly, her hand automatically reaching for the bejewelled dagger that hung on a loop around her hips. She found her fingers grasping at empty air as she met the crystal blue depths of Loki's eyes. Those eyes of his were always changing, constantly shifting between various hues of blue and green, their colouring was as inconsistent and variable as Loki's moods. _

"_Lady Sif." The harsh lines of Loki's mouth were curving upwards in a self-satisfied smirk. _

_Despite her best intentions, Sif found her heartbeat quickening at the velvet softness of his voice. She stood her ground defiantly, tilting her chin upwards so that she could meet his gaze as he moved closer. They both knew why she was in his chambers. They both knew she was no shy, inexperienced maiden who would need coaxing and sweet promises to get her into bed. She was his equal damn it. She was any man's equal on the battlefield and in the bed. _

_He moved towards her slowly with the sensual grace of a predator, every step carefully calculated, those changeable eyes never leaving hers even when her own gaze flickered to the flash of colour in his right hand. A frown creased her forehead as she glimpsed the ornately decorated knife in his hand. "How-?" she didn't bother finishing the sentence as Loki flashed her a pitying look. _

"_Do you truly come to my chambers to dull my mind with such questions?" His words came out in a low hiss, his breath warm and smelling of wine fanned across her lips in a startlingly intimate gesture as he lowered his face to hers. _

_Sif couldn't help how her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. How arousal flooded through her body at the appreciative gleam in Loki's eyes as he caught sight of that tiny movement. She raised a hand and pressed it lightly against the gleaming metal of his chest plate. "I'm not interested in your fine words Trickster." She tried to make her keep her voice firm and steady, she did not want Loki to see the cracks in her normally cold composure. He had a superiority complex as it was without her feeding his ego by acting like some sort of breathless harlot. _

_He said nothing. More importantly, he made no move to touch her. His eyes were still trained unblinkingly on her face, his intense scrutiny making it difficult not to squirm. Sif was overly aware of the distance between them, of the tension creeping into her body as she waited for his response. For some reason this pause, this lack of activity only served to heighten her senses, make her ache all the more for the brother she had barely noticed until tonight. She found herself admiring just how incredibly attractive the younger prince was. The fine aristocratic lines of his cheekbones, the perfect straightness of his nose, the blackness of the hair which brushed against skin so pale and translucent that it could be compared to marble._

_That damnable mouth of his was smirking at her. Annoyed at her uncharacteristically demure behaviour, Sif lunged forward. She never waited for a man to make the first move so why start now? Her body crashed into the hardness of Loki's chest, she pushed her way between his legs, her hand reaching up to curl her fingers into the sleek darkness of his hair, her lips already parting in her readiness to taste him. _

_It was a shock then to find her wrist caught tightly in Loki's grip. To find that the Prince was stepping back from her, a malicious laugh escaping his mouth before he tutted condescendingly. He circled her with slow, measured steps, the grip of his fingers almost painful upon the bones of her wrist. "You would have me as you take your other lovers?" His voice was mocking, its smooth deepness doing nothing to quell to the fire racing through Sif's veins. "You would couple as you fight upon the battlefield?" He stepped closer to brush his body fleetingly against hers, bending his head so that his teeth nipped unexpectedly at her earlobe, "Swift and brutal." _

_His withdrawal was equally as sudden and Sif was ashamed at how she had to stifle a whimper of protest. _

"_No, my lady," he emphasised her title as if to stress she was anything but, "That is not how I bed a woman." His voice was laden with sensual promise as his fingers loosened around her wrist, his thumb moving in a lazy circle over her pulse point before his fingers trailed up the exposed flesh of her arm. _

_His touch sent the most delicious shivers through her body, enough to distract her momentarily from the sharp metal blade skimming along the curve of her back. Sif swallowed the tremor of fear that threatened to shake her body at the realisation that he was using her own weapon against her. She glared up at the Prince, her hands balling into fists as she quickly calculated just how easy it would be to disarm him, to turn that knife upon the white perfection of his own flesh. _

_The smile tugging at Loki's lips, the glint of pure mischief in his eyes, gave her the reassurance that he too knew just how capable she was of handling this situation. His other hand came up to skim his fingertips against the nape of her neck, the barely there caresses were almost too much for her to bear. It was with wanton willingness that she threw back her head as Loki's mouth descended upon her throat. Gentle, warm kisses to the curve of her jaw, a wet tongue running possessively down the length of her throat before sharp teeth nipped teasingly at the edge of her collar bone. _

_There was the sound of silk being shredded before the straps of Sif's gown became much looser. The expensive material would have fallen to the ground had she not clutched at it, her cheeks flushing with anger at his audacity, at his careless destruction of something beautiful which did not belong to him. _

_Before she could say anything, raise her voice in anger or lift a hand to strike that cool, imperious face, Loki's lips were ghosting across hers, his breath filling her mouth, his tongue slipping forcefully inside to rub against hers for one agonisingly erotic moment. And then he was gone again feeling her shaken and bereft without his touch._

_There was a clatter of metal against marble as he dropped her dagger carelessly on the floor. Taking long, confident strides towards the massive gold and emerald bed, Loki began to loosen and discard his ceremonial armour. "I will bed you as I wish." _

_The commanding tone of his speech reminded her of just who she was proposing to get into bed with. Only a prince could sound so confident, so assured that not only would he get his own way but that he was completely and utterly entitled for it be so. Sif had never found the masterful approach sexually attractive, in her mind such men were overcompensating for flaws and weaknesses elsewhere. _

_So why wasn't she leaving? Why was she intrigued by his words and caresses? Why did her knees feel weak with sheer longing for his touch? He had done almost nothing to her and yet she was more ready to bed him than she had been with any man before. There was also the sight of him undoing his armour, those long, elegant fingers moving across leather straps and burnished golden to reveal the dark green of his clothing beneath. If anyone had told her even a few hours ago that she would find a man, let alone Loki Odinson, stripping such a turn on she would have laughed heartily in their face. _

"_We will see about that." _

_It pleased her to hear how her voice rang out so clearly. Her tone as measured and calm as it had always been. As Loki turned around to give her a challenging glare, she slowly released her grip on the remains of her gown, letting the silken material skim enticingly over the curves of her body. It was her turn to smirk now as his eyes widened, as his movements stilled so he could fully take in the sight of her. _

_He held out a hand, the huskiness of his voice betraying his desire for her. "Come here."_

_For a moment Sif didn't move. It was so tempting to say no, to refuse him and make him cross back over the room to her. Teach him not to simply walk away from her, not to make the assumption that she would follow. But there was a softness in his eyes as he continued to hold out his hand that made her reconsider all that. In any case what use would it be to play such games? She never had been one for messing around. She wanted him, they both knew this._

_She did however take her time walking the distance between them, tossing back her long black hair so he could fully appreciate her semi-naked figure. All that training as a warrior of the realm meant that she had a figure most women would die for and she had no qualms about showing it off to such an appreciative lover. There was no trace of impatience in him as she approached. No roughness in the way his fingers closed around her hand. She wasn't certain whether his lack of urgency was unnerving or exciting. It seemed Loki was as reserved and controlled in his bed chambers as he was outside them. _

_It was as if he could read her thoughts. He placed her hand upon his chest, the hardness of his muscles beneath the rich material of his shirt distracted her momentarily before she realised her hand was covering his heart and it was pounding frantically. Before she had time to dwell further on this, one of Loki's hands was gliding around the smallness of her waist, tugging her closer to him. His other hand was reaching up to entangle itself in her hair, the sensation of his fingers rubbing against her scalp managing to be both sensuous and relaxing at the same time. It made her knees curiously weak, made her press closer to him for support and yet sparks were flying through her entire body. Oh but Valhalla, she had a feeling this was going to be a night she wouldn't forget in a hurry. Tilting her face up to his, she expected to find him smiling, smirking even, at how willing she was to surrender to him but instead his face was serious, his eyes full of an intensity that made her uneasy. _

_Then he was bending his head to brush his lips against hers. Again he seemed in no hurry, his lips moving across hers gently at first, his tongue only slipping into her mouth when she invited him. Most men were full of haste to get past this part, they seemed to view kissing as a perfunctory act that had to be performed to get to the actual coupling. Not Loki. Oh no, not Loki. He had made kissing into a form of art. His tongue would dominate her mouth before enticing her into his. His teeth would graze against her lips with just the right amount of pressure to make her hands clench at his shirt. One second, his lips would pass fleetingly over hers making her strain upwards for more pressure and the next, his mouth would come crashing down against hers, hard and verging on a violence that the warrior in her relished. And he tasted like no other man had before. The wine mixing with something else, something crisp, cool and delicious, something that was pure Loki. _

* * *

_With a regretful groan, Sif tore herself away from that cursedly seductive mouth and ran her hands down the length of his chest. She let one hand 'accidentally' slip lower down, skimming briefly over the admittedly rather impressive bulge in his trousers. It was gratifying to hear Loki's sharp intake of breath as she did so. Curling her fingers around the bottom of his shirt, she gave it a decisive tug upwards. Fortunately, Loki was most obliging, releasing her so that she could tug the tightly fitted material over his arms and head. It messed up his hair slightly and somehow the sight of those black locks in disarray sent another bolt of longing straight through her. She wanted to see Loki come completely undone, his black hair thoroughly mussed, his cheeks flushed with colour, his severe mouth swollen from kisses. _

_As Loki tossed the dark green shirt aside, Sif realised she had been staring. As her gaze drifted down his newly exposed torso, she resigned herself to the fact that she would be staring a lot more. Loki was truly beautiful, a silly word perhaps to describe the masculine form but right now she could think of no better. He may have been the most slender of the warriors, indeed she doubted that there was even an ounce of fat on him. But despite this, he was all leanness and sculptured muscles and she knew from first-hand experience just how much strength rested within that lithe form._

_It wasn't as if she hadn't been granted opportunities before now to admire his body. During the hottest days of training it wasn't unknown for the warriors to discard some of their clothing. Or for the men to take a swim in a particularly inviting river or lake during one of their missions. She just hadn't really bothered to look, her gaze always captured by the golden, muscular form of – No! She would not allow her thoughts to go down that path. _

_Focusing her attention on the man standing before her, Sif lifted a hand to trail a single finger down the pale skin of his chest. Never mind Loki's reaction, she could sense her own breathing become shallow with anticipation as she traced the line of dark hair which lead down into his trousers. As Loki moved to restrain her, Sif swatted away his hand before sinking down, almost onto her knees, to press her lips against the waistband of his trousers. He wasn't the only one who could use his mouth to devastating effect. She made her way up his body in a leisurely fashion, her mouth caressing him with lingering, shallow kisses, her tongue occasionally flicking out to taste even more of him and all the time her hand kept stroking the hard length of him through the barrier of his clothing. His hand tightening in her hair and the increased pace of his breathing were the only indicators that her administrations were having any effect on him. And yet the subtle changes in his breathing turned her on more than any vocal encouragement in form of loud moans or grunts could have done. _

_Sinking her teeth playfully into the hollow of his collarbone, Sif glanced up at him, a flush of pleasure overcoming her at the mere sight of his parted lips and dilated pupils, at the lust which was written all over his face. She didn't resist when his hand grasped her chin and lifted her face to his for a kiss. She did however bite down on his tongue in warning when his other hand sought to cover the one of hers that was still teasing him below. Two could play at that game. If he thought he was getting a submissive lover, a woman who would remain passive and accepting, he had another damn thing coming._

_He bit down harder. _

_Just enough to sting a little. But his hand made no effort to remove hers so she supposed that was some form of victory. The soft brush of his thumb against the sensitive skin of her wrist nearly made her fumble but judging from the low gasp that escaped from his mouth into hers that seemed to be his way of urging her on rather than an attempt to reassert his dominance. The material of his trousers was much too thick a barrier for her touch to have the effect she wanted. She half-expected him to stop her as she began tugging at the lacing on his trousers, half expected him to protest that she was acting too much like the man in this scenario. She was entirely expecting the curve of his smirk against her lips._

_Her own answering smirk died away as his laces proved remarkably challenging to untie. If anything they seemed to tighten with each pull of her fingers. Exasperated, she pushed her way out of his embrace and levelled an accusatory glare at him. _

_Loki's face was a masterpiece in innocence. _

_It didn't fool Sif for a second. "No magic." Her voice shook a little and she wasn't sure whether it was from anger or frustration. Either way, she would not allow Loki to bring his little tricks into this. She wanted none of his illusions, none of his mind games. If they were going to bed, it had to be on equal terms. _

_Loki gave her an incredulous look._

"_I mean it," Sif told him in a stern, cold voice. "No magic. Or, I will walk away right now."_

_He regarded her solemnly; his mouth no longer smiling. _

_For one horrible moment, Sif really believed that he would refuse, that he would tell her to go. She found her hands clenching into fists once again, fists so tight that her short nails were digging into the flesh of her palms. Her heart racing with panic instead now as she contemplated her next step. Pride alone would require her to make good on her threat. If he denied her, and he had every right to do so, then she could hardly back down. Acquiesce wasn't in her nature. Neither was it in his. However, magic was. _

_Loki's brow creased into a foreboding frown. He moved away from her with carefully measured steps, only speaking when he was directly behind her, the close proximity of his half clothed body sending an electric charge through her body. "Are you afraid my lady?" A long-fingered hand swept her hair over to one side, leaving the side of her throat exposed. His breath danced upon her skin as he leant forward to whisper in her ear. "Of a few inconsequential tricks?" His voice hardened, an underlying bitterness breaking through his usual melodious tone._

_Sif found herself trying to remember why his words sounded so familiar. A sickening feeling of dismay washed over her as she realised that they were hers. Intended as nothing more than a light-hearted jibe during training practise. All part of the banter between the warriors. Yet, Loki made them sound cruel and vindictive. She fought back the urge to apologise, to tell him what they all knew, that Loki's sorcery was anything but inconsequential, that his 'tricks' had saved their lives more times than any of them cared to recall. She reasoned that he knew all this, his conceit arrogance more than assured her of that. She would not pander to his ego. She had to put up with much worse insults from the other warriors and if she could suppress the hurt that they caused her then Loki could bloody well do the same. _

* * *

_In the end she said nothing, choosing instead to distract him from his petty grievance by claiming his lips for another one of those wonderful kisses. His mouth was hard and unyielding at first but it seemed even the freakishly controlled Loki only could resist so much temptation and soon he was kissing her back with a passion that Sif could never have imagined him capable of. Her tongue eagerly battled his for dominance, her fingers slipping up into his hair to haul him closer, the slicked back blackness surprisingly soft and silky to touch._

_He moved abruptly, tugging his head back with from her tight grip, Sif had to bite back a hiss of frustration as his lips left hers. It was with a certain amount of wariness that she watched him take a sit on the edge of the magnificent bed. Strong hands on her hips pulled her forward between his legs, those elegant fingers were inching up over her waist, skimming against the intricate lacing of her corset. Blue-green eyes looked up at her from an earnest face, the prince seemingly seeking her permission to proceed. She wasn't certain whether to be touched or amused by his apparent concern for her virtue._

_Confidently, she straddled his thighs. Taking advantage of the slight height difference, she brought her mouth down against his, her tongue demanding entry once again. As his hands skilfully made short work of the laces, Sif deliberately grinded herself against the hardness of his lower body. She relished the shiver that passed through him before he managed to halt it, how his breath caught slightly in his throat as she pressed closer. Unlike most men she had been to bed with, Loki made her guess, made her truly work for the tiniest reaction. It was a challenge and Sif had never been able to walk away from one of them. _

_Cool air rushed to caress her skin, followed swiftly by Loki's hands as her corset was discarded onto the floor. Groaning softly into his mouth, Sif pushed herself harder against his body, the heat of his naked skin against hers making her long all the more for him. Loki's fingertips leisurely traced the outline of her spine, his touch was relatively chaste compared to what she wanted. Impatiently, Sif rocked against his hips, deepening their kiss as she did so. It had never taken this long to get into bed with a man before, they were usually so hurried. Even those who sought to please still did it with their own end in sight. _

_The Prince broke away to give her a taunting smile. "My lady, have we not discussed this?" For all the velvet softness of his voice, there was an underlying hint of menace. "I will have you exactly when and as I wish." His hand splayed out firmly against the small of her back, holding her in place against the evidence of his arousal. As he tilted her back, still maintaining contact between their lower bodies but exposing her breasts to his avid gaze, a wolfish grin spread across his thin lips. "Hold on tight." It was both a warning and an invitation. _

_Sif grasped his upper arms tightly, restricting his movement just enough to remind him that she was no blushing maiden. His eyes narrowed a little at the sting of her nails biting into his hard, smooth muscles but he said nothing to rebuke her. Another small victory. One she soon forgot about once his mouth began to trail kisses down her throat._

_One hand kept her firmly secure, the other mapped the dips and curves of her body, his touch frustratingly feather-light as his fingers swept over her collar bone, down the line of her torso to map the fullness of her breasts, grazing over her navel only to come hauntingly close to where she desperately wanted him to touch between her legs. And then the process would begin again. And again. Each time his mouth slipping a little further down her body. His tongue and lips were soft and warm in comparison to the roughened skin of his hands. Her body was both relishing and struggling to absorb the conflicting sensations that his caresses were evoking. Sif hated how she was squirming underneath his administrations, how her desire for him was becoming laughably obvious but as his lips finally encased a sensitive nipple, she gave up trying to hold back her moans of pleasure. _

_His tongue played with each nipple in turn, shifting as quick as lightning from slow, tender licks to harsh sucking and back again. His fingers skimmed over as much of her body as he could reach in their current position, sometimes clenching in her hair, sometimes stroking along her toned calves. She was beyond caring that she was grinding herself desperately against him, that despite the thrusts of his hips against hers and the unevenness of his breathing, he seemed remarkably composed. Throwing her head back, digging her fingers even deeper into his flesh, Sif felt like she was going to implode with all the frustration building up inside her._

_It was almost as if he could read her thoughts as he leant forward to whisper in her ear, lust turning his cultured voice into a rasping growl. "Beg me."_

"_No." Sif shook her head vehemently even as white hot desire streaked through her veins at the commanding tone of his words. She had never pleaded with anyone in her life let alone in the act of coupling and she would not do it now. _

_She laughed breathlessly with triumph as he hissed angrily at her defiance. Lifting her with ease, he twisted their positions so that she was now laying on the bed and he was leaning over in a manner she assumed she was supposed to find intimidating. It had the opposite effect. She couldn't wait for him to take her, to bury himself deep inside her and fully satisfy the ache that was on verge of driving her mad._

_She stretched her body out against the pure white of his sheets, exposed beneath the verdant coverlet as it slipped onto the floor, revelling in how indulgently soft and welcoming they felt against her bare skin. Her legs glided up over his clothed thighs to wrap around his narrow hips, her muscles tightening as she attempted to pull him down upon her, a nonchalant smile playing on her lips. _

_The smile he bestowed on her was as patronisingly smug as it was sexy. His hands came down hard on her thighs, forcing her legs back down on to the bed, her toes just about scraping the marble of the floor. "You. Shall. Beg." He enunciated each word fiercely, possessively. _

**Chapter 3 teaser:**

'_I hate you.'_

_**Please do review and let me know what you think! xo**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**3/6**_

_**Big chapter this one, I sincerely hope it will not disappoint. My first time writing smut so any feedback/reassurance would be so much appreciated. Special thanks to the lovely murdur for your amazing review. The rest of you guys should check out their fics, brilliant stuff.**_

_**Hope this is okay! *hides behind cushion* xo**_

_**Chapter 3**_

_Sif swallowed hard, not certain whether she was afraid of this darker, more savage side to the Prince's personality or it simply made her hunger even more for him. _

_He sank slowly between her legs, pulling her to the edge of the bed with a sharp, almost violent tug. Raising herself up on her elbows, Sif frowned as she watched him kneel upon the marble flooring. It made her breath catch in her throat to see him in such a submissive position, it was strangely perverse but the entire notion of the proud and haughty Prince Loki kneeling before her… She gasped as his hands seized her ankles, the unexpected contact making her realise that his current choice of position was nowhere near as meek and deferential as she had assumed. _

_Brilliantly blue eyes met hers, and that damnably attractive mouth curled up just enough at the edges to make her tingle with anticipation. _

_Fingers still firmly wrapped around her ankle, he lifted her leg up until her foot rested upon his shoulder. Turning his head, he pressed a light, open mouthed kiss against her ankle bone. "Oh my lady," his voice would have sounded sorrowful if not for the underlying smirk, "you should have begged when you had the chance." He was practically purring with self-satisfaction as he set about the task of making her writhe beneath his touch. _

_At first, Sif wasn't sure of his intentions. All she knew was that he was promising, hmm well if she was being truthful it was more of a threat than a promise, to give her such pleasure that she would lower herself to the act of pleading. She was somewhat incredulous that he believed this was possible. His confidence, no arrogance, in his skills as a lover would have been immensely off putting had he not proved himself more than capable earlier. _

_As his mouth travelled along the length of her leg, Sif allowed herself to relax back onto the bed. It was surprising, she mused, just how pleasurable it was to be kissed and caressed in this manner. There was no need to caution Loki to be careful of the various bruises still darkening her skin as she had not fully healed from the last battle. His touch was extraordinarily gentle until he nipped roughly at the inside of her thigh. The unexpected sting making her hips rise towards him even as she let out a huffy breath of complaint. _

_He took the opportunity to slip his fingers around the last of her underwear and pull it down over her hips, fully exposing her to his sight. Despite all her efforts, Sif could feel blood rushing to her cheeks. She didn't want to blush like she was an inexperienced fool but it was difficult not to when his gaze was raking over her in the most intimate way possible. _

_She could feel the heat of his hand cupping her, so close, so unbearably close that she wriggled forward seeking contact. He immediately moved his hand away. Barely managing to hold back her whimper, Sif sank her hands into the sheets of his bed, twisting her fingers around the crisp, fresh material. She would not beg, she resolved with dogged determination, she would absolutely not beg Loki to take her. She would not. _

_It was difficult though, she had to concede that. He made it immensely difficult with the way his hands flowed up and down her thighs, always coming so painfully close to touching her but not quite. His mouth pressing kisses against her inner thighs with varying degrees of softness, a sharp nip sometimes heightening the experience before his tongue would follow with a soothing caress. She found herself taking in deep gulps of air in an effort to assert control over her body, to stop herself from crying out for him. She would not give the satisfaction. He would give in to her. He was a man. They were so weak when it came to carnal temptation, surely he couldn't deny himself for much longer._

"_Ah!" The cry forced itself past her unwilling lips even as her body arched off the bed and an unexpected warmth flicked against her wetness. He repeated the gesture, this time more slowly, more determinedly. This sensation of something softer, more pliable than a man's fingers, was new to her. The unfamiliar probing felt wickedly delightful, better than anything she had ever experienced before. She groaned aloud, flinging her head back and pressing deeper into the glorious way in which he was caressing her. It took several moments for her ravaged senses to apprehend what exactly he was doing to her._

_Face blazing with a decidedly odd mixture of lust, embarrassment and anger, Sif struggled to lift herself up on her elbows. The weakness of her limbs shocked her but not as much as the sight of Loki's mouth kissing her so intimately. He glanced up at her, his eyes sparkling with mirth at her delayed outrage but he didn't stop. And even though Sif felt ashamed at her permissiveness, she didn't want him to stop. Oh no, she cried out with abandon as his tongue danced upon a particularly sensitive spot that no other man had ever seemed able to find before, she never wanted him to stop. Never._

_One of his hands glided over the sheets to entwine their fingers together. A touch she found strangely tender and comforting, the solidity and strength of his fingers between hers felt like the only anchor she had to reality as waves of fiery pleasures began to ripple through her body. She was barely aware of the noises that passed her lips as his other hand explored the growing slickness between her legs. She was beyond caring at this point, barely capable of registering that this was Loki's doing, that Thor's little brother was the one bringing her body to the brink of such satisfaction. Even so a dull flush settled upon the fair skin of her face as she cried out his name. He delved his fingers into her, cautiously, gently at first and then thank Valhalla more forcefully. His caresses should have been a pale imitation of the act she was craving so desperately for but they were cursedly good, unbelievably good. He had to be using magic to achieve this, there was no way any man could generate such heavenly delight without some form of sorcery._

_The most exquisite type of tension was gradually building up in her body, her limbs tensing up almost painfully in sheer anticipation of a release she was beginning to suspect she had only ever experienced an echo of. Reaching down, she curled her fingers deep into the silky locks of his hair, her breathing coming in little pants and sobs as he continued to use his lips, tongue and fingers to elicit the most wonderful sensations from her body. Just as she thought she couldn't bear it any longer, as her body clenched around his touch, as his name fell repeatedly from her lips, he suddenly withdrew._

_Frustration, raw and ugly seared through Sif at being robbed of the gratification he had so freely promised her. She was almost snarling, her fingers digging cruelly into his scalp as she tried desperately to tug him closer again. _

_His breath, lusciously cool and refreshing, fanned against her overwrought flesh. "Such mewling," he laughed with wicked glee, a move which only served to make her thrash about, trying in vain to inch closer to his clever mouth. Oh how she hated him, the smug, irritating bilgesnipe! How she despised him and the deviant acts he performed on her. Acts which she would do anything to have him repeat again._

"_Loki, please." She had never heard her tone sound so beseeching before. Then again she had never felt so distressed before, so tightly wound up, ready for and yet denied release._

_His lips hovered enticingly over her. "Yes, my lady?" _

_She could almost sense him touching her. Almost. If she could just close that tiny gap between them, shift herself towards him, jerk his head back to her… "Please." It was practically a whine and somewhere deep inside Sif, some minute part of her, a part which was holding on to rationale with its fingertips, recoiled with humiliation at the way she was writhing and begging like a whore beneath this man. That part of her decided that she loathed Loki Odinson with all her heart, that she truly hated him for reducing her to this, that she would take revenge on that beautiful, smirking mouth of his. _

_She was so near to the edge that when his tongue finally deigned to stroke her again, it took only a few caresses and the merest hint of his fingers moving against her to tip her over the edge. One prolonged moment of dazzling euphoria, of frenzied bliss so intense it danced upon a fine line between pleasure and pain. Then waves of ecstatic relief crashing violently through her, making her body shudder with rapturous joy. Except Loki was not one to grant her release quite so easily. His tongue and fingers continued to move inside her, his lips sucking hard, his gifted administrations lifting her up into white-hot pleasure again and again before letting her succumb to tremors of satisfaction that wracked her body with such force and power Sif felt like she was being tore apart. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, her mind was blank except for the repetitive refrain of Loki, Loki, Loki! She couldn't be certain whether or not her lips were actually forming the word, whether she was screaming it or too breathless, too overcome to do anything but feebly mouth it. _

* * *

_It took her a few minutes to recover, a process which she was in no hurry to complete. She was vaguely aware of Loki's movements as her hand let go of what must have been an uncomfortable grip on his hair. His hand escaping hers before strong, sinewy arms lifted her more fully onto the massive bed. Nestling back against the downy comfort of the mattress, Sif felt the bed dip as Loki's heavy weight came to rest beside her. The long, hard length of his body pressed gently against her side, a long-fingered hand rising to stroke her cheek oh so tenderly. Reluctantly, her eyelids felt heavy with sudden sleepiness, Sif's eyes fluttered open as she turned her head towards Loki. _

_The Prince was looking at her with wide eyed concern, his eyes now a shade of the lightest green. His teeth were grazing his bottom lip with something that looked like anxiety. Who would have thought that Loki was capable of such softness? If she didn't know him better she would have thought that he was wearing a look of devotion, that he needed assurance from her despite the glaring evidence of his success only a few moments before._

"_I hate you," Sif murmured, lifting a hand to run admiringly over the toned muscles of his arm. It astonished her to feel his body tense at her playful insult, to witness the stricken look that entered and fled from his eyes so quickly she wondered if she imagined it. It should have been unnecessary to add, "For actually making me beg like that," but she found herself clarifying matters anyway. _

_She flipped onto her side so she could undulate her body against his, energy and wanting surging through her as the hardness of his lower body collided with her unhindered by any barriers of clothing. A frisson of pure need crackled inside her at this discovery and she flung her leg over his hip invitingly, her fingers digging into the smooth skin of his back as she drew him down against her._

_Those brilliantly green eyes stared into hers, his gaze never wavering as he began to press into her. Even when she groaned, tossing her head back, squeezing her eyes shut tightly at the incredible sensation of being filled so deeply, so thoroughly by him, she felt the intensity of his gaze upon her. Thank Valhalla, he had prepared her so carefully, for all the men she had been with he was exceptionally well endowed. A fact no doubt he needed no reminding of or compliments upon. He must know of course how an excellent a lover he was, how could he not? In any case, she had always considered him vain and conceited enough when it came to his scholarly or magical abilities without seeking to further swell his ego in an entirely different area of expertise._

_He was gentle with her, unexpectedly so as he began to move in and out, as the sharp bones and angles of his body pressed against the contrasting softness and roundness of her curves. His mouth would brush against hers in delicately light kisses that allowed her to take trembling gasps of air as unbelievably she felt her body once more coil with tension. His voice, husky, almost hoarse with desire for her, would whisper the most sinful, most wicked things to her. His words alone could make heat pool inside her, make her grow ever slicker as she whimpered for more. More of his voice in her ear, more of his body rocking against her, just more of everything that was him. _

_He read her so well, responding to needs she could barely articulate or understand herself, deepening his thrusts as her hands grasped his backside. His steady pace, the way he elevated her hips just slightly, and the angle at which he drove into her again and again, it all contributed to the most heavenly friction between them. Sif found herself approaching that cliff fall again, the knowledge of the pleasure awaiting her only adding to her eager excitement as he drove her relentlessly towards and then over the edge. His breath shuddered in her ear, adding to her arousal as she came undone in his arms, sinking her teeth viciously into his shoulder in an attempt to stop herself from screaming out his name. _

_Loki stilled, allowing her body to ride out the sensations uninterrupted only moving again when her grip, both teeth and hands, slackened. He chuckled softly before tilting her chin up so she was forced to meet his gaze. Sif did so unflinchingly. She may not be accustomed to the debauched thrills of his coupling but she would be damned before she played the blushing virgin._

"_Ah my lady, do you not see now that this is where you belong?" His eyes, shades of blue-green, were feverishly bright as he grinned down at her. "Beneath me. Begging me. Submitting to me." _

_She cut off his taunting laugh with a hard slap to his backside. As the crack of her hand striking him reverberated through the sudden silence of the room, Sif let out a horrified gasp at her violent action. She hadn't even thought about it. Her instinct had been to lash out, to physically fight back against his words. _

_A grimace passed over Loki's handsome features before his lips bared his teeth in a grin that could only be described as feral. With one hand he captured her wrists and yanked her arms above her head. "I fear I must restrain you." His tone was apologetic, the heat in his eyes anything but. "Purely to protect you from committing such terrible acts of treason."_

_His fingers glided seductively down over the sensitive skin of her inner arm before Sif realised her hands were still pinned above her. It felt like ropes of silk were tightly wound around them. Tugging crossly against her restraints, Sif couldn't fail to notice the flash of ecstasy that flitted across Loki's face as her body flailed beneath his. "No magic." She hated the note of alarm that entered her voice, it felt she was exposing a weakness to him. "You promised!" _

_Loki's smile of amusement made her want to slap him once again. This time across his face so that she could wipe that infuriating sense of superiority from his exquisitely carved features. "I recall saying no such thing," he replied in a honeyed voice. _

_Casting her mind back over that conversation, Sif let out a vexed hiss. He was right, damn him. He had made no such promise. He had given her no assurance whatsoever that he would not use his magic against her and what's more he had played it so that she was the one who moved them on from that confrontation. He really was the most insufferable, most devious, most erotic …Oh damn. Sif's thoughts became increasingly incoherent as he began to thrust into her harder and faster than before; a merciless pounding that would guarantee his own release. _

_Despite her fury, Sif found herself surrendering to the brutal rhythm. Her hips rose and fell in an effort to keep pace with him. Although her hands were bound, she was able to wrap her legs around his hips, a gesture which did not go unappreciated judging by the quiet moan that escaped Loki's narrow lips. Dimly, through the fierceness of her own carnal need, Sif was conscious of how beautiful Loki was in this moment of abandonment. How his lips were fuller, a darker shade of pink in their current swollen state, how his face verged on ethereal as pleasure contorted his features, his eyes half shut, obsidian locks of hair framing his face as a faint pinkness crept over the usual pallor of his cheeks. He came with a low gasp, seemingly controlled and reserved even at the moment of heightened sensation but there was no mistaking the way his body trembled against hers, the wetness, unusually cold and icy, that flooded through her. _

* * *

_Wordlessly, Loki released her from the silken bonds and wrapped his body around her. Everything about tonight had been unexpected. Her attraction to the younger prince. His fervent response. His skill and passion in the bed chamber. But above all that, this had to be the most surprising. Loki liked to snuggle? It was so utterly bewildering that Sif didn't have the heart to refuse him. Her scornful laugh died halfway up her throat as he let out a sigh of contentment, his hands still moving over her body, this time in slow circles intended to soothe and relax her. It wasn't her usual practice to stay afterwards but she felt that it would be no hardship just this once. Her limbs were so heavy and sated that she felt incapable of stirring herself into action anyway._

"_Sif?" Loki's voice was so low, it was almost inaudible._

_Barely managing to stay awake, Sif tipped her head back so that she was face to face with her lover. She found herself inhaling a shaky breath at just how strikingly handsome he was. Why hadn't she noticed before? Lifting a hand to softly caress his cheek, she watched intently as his eyes fluttered close at her touch. As if he savoured it, as if it meant something to him. No wonder he was so successful with women if he made them all feel like this._

_His eyes opened again, fixing on her with a curiously hungry look in their green depths. "Are you content?" Beneath his refined tone there was a layer of vulnerability, a neediness that unsettled Sif. "Have I pleased you?" _

_Stunned, it was all Sif could do to nod. _

_The joyous smile that he bestowed on her in return did nothing to abate the sense of unease curdling in her stomach. She watched as he closed his eyes, long dark lashes brushing against the pale grey of the circles beneath. He truly was breath-taking to behold and the sight of him so peaceful, so unlike his usual derisive self, made her heart ache with an emotion she did not wish to examine too closely. His hands gradually halted in their slow, graceful movements across her back, his breathing becoming deep and even as sleep claimed him. _

_The faint stirrings of birdsong outside indicated that it was close to dawn. No wonder she was so exhausted. Shutting her eyes tightly against the pale light that was beginning to spill into the chambers, Sif forced her mind to empty of all foolish thoughts about the prince who laid by her side. He was the God of Mischief and Lies, a master of manipulation and that was all there was to it. _

**Chapter 4 teaser:**

'_I wonder just how hard can you bite?' _

_***Peeks out from cushion* Thank you for reading, please do let me know if it was okay! xo**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**4/6**_

_**Wow, thank you so much for the positive reviews on the last chapter! NightlyBlueDemons, Lokisloyalbitch and murdur thank you for taking the time to let me know what you think. Your lovely words have given me a massive confidence boost and I'm already plotting out some more smutty Loki fics.**_

_**Thank you to everyone who has favourited or followed this fic. I hope you will continue to enjoy it.**_

_**Welcome to the morning after the night before with Loki…**_

_**xo**_

**Chapter 4**

_It was the scent lingering on the bed sheets which alerted an awakening Sif to the fact that she was not in her own bed. Mixed with the lavender commonly used to wash bed linen was a crisp masculine scent. One that her body instinctively reacted to with a shiver of pleasure before her mind had even begun to connect the pieces. Her hands slowly spread out around her, fingers sliding over material much more luxurious than her usual bedding. She was alone. The coolness of the space beside her indicated that this had been the case for some time now. For some reason, this disturbed her more than being in another person's bed. There was perhaps a minute or two where she was consumed with the desperate need to recall the events of last night but her brain was still too addled with sleep to co-operate. Then her memory returned with all the force of Mjolnir. In vivid colour (and sound too) the images flooded her mind. Thor's cheeky wink. Dancing with Loki. Her dagger. Loki's mouth on hers. Loki's mouth everywhere. 'Beg me.' And she had. _

_She supposed that this was the point where she was expected to be overwhelmed by guilt and shame at her unmaidenly actions last night. Tough. Sif refused to indulge in such ridiculous notions. Why should she carry such a burden when men did not? She could take her pleasure as freely as any of them. And it had been enjoyable. Very much so. Sif allowed herself a smile of satisfaction as she stretched out her body savouring the luxurious texture of the bed sheets against her bare skin. She ached everywhere, the ache of a woman who had been thoroughly worshipped and sated the night before. _

_Her eyes slowly fluttered open and cautiously she lifted her head up, fully expecting to feel a twinge of pain for drinking so much of the berry wine last evening. There was a slight throbbing at the back of her skull but it was a relatively dull ache and could be ignored. No doubt the subdued lighting and fresh air flooding Loki's chambers helped. _

_Turning her face in the direction of the soft breeze, she found her attention caught by the shimmering green drapes across the balcony. They were so delicately woven that they bordered on transparent, the subtle hue of green almost seemed to dance upon the material as if it could be scattered away with the mere touch of her hand. Nothing as insubstantial as these drapes should be able to block out the glare of the morning light but given their location in Loki's chambers it was a safe bet that they were somehow enchanted. _

_Ah Loki. As the memories continued to race through her mind, Sif wanted to bury her face in the soft whiteness of the pillow. Whilst, she refused to play the part of the disgraced lady, she couldn't help feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed at just how easily she had succumbed to Loki's clever caresses, how she had allowed him to commit shockingly intimate acts upon her person and worse of all how she had begged and pleaded for more. Just remembering the sensation of his tongue gliding past her lips, the sound of his wickedly soft voice in her ear, the dexterity of his strong hands… It made blood rush to her cheeks and the rest of her body ache with longing. _

_With a scowl, Sif twisted sideways and pressed her face against the coldness of the neighbouring pillow. What was wrong with her? She was acting like one of those pathetic, lovesick women who drifted around aimlessly casting imploring looks at the various warriors they believed themselves to be besotted with. The thought was sufficiently horrifying enough to make her resist the urge to bury her nose in the linen and breathe in her lover's scent. Loki's scent. Thor's little brother. She firmly quashed the niggle of doubt that this thought generated. Later. She would deal with the consequences later. For now, her gaze fell upon the Prince sitting at his desk, she had more pressing matters to deal with._

_Even though his back was turned to her, Sif still clutched the sheets against her body as she raised herself into a sitting position. He had seen quite enough of her last night. Glancing around for something a little more suitable to use as cover, Sif frowned darkly as she remembered her gown would no longer be fit for purpose. Of all the things to be concerned with, the destruction of her gown may seem like a trifling matter but she had few gowns of such finery and it had been one of her favourites. _

_Her frown lessened somewhat to find that someone, presumably Loki, had left her robes at the foot of the bed. Sliding noiselessly out of the sheets, Sif stifled a gasp at how cold the marble felt against her bare feet. An anxious look in the direction of the Prince showed that he was still absorbed in his work. Picking up the robes, Sif ran a contemplative hand over the cream silk. She half-expected the Prince to dress her in his own colours in a petty attempt to assert some form of ownership over her. There had been glimpses of such a man in Loki, of a darker, more possessive side to him but judging from these robes, she had been mistaken._

_Once her new clothing was securely fastened, Sif began to stroll across the chambers to her lover of the night before. He was unnervingly quiet, even the scratching of his pen against the paper seemed fainter than usual. She found the thought of sneaking up on him highly amusing. She wanted to startle and distract him from whatever it was that he deemed so important that it was worth abandoning his bed when it held a naked and willing partner. A wry smile crept over her lips, only Loki could be more interested in dusty books and magic than coupling. _

"_Hungry?" _

_There hadn't been so much a flicker of interest to indicate that he had even noticed her awakening let alone stealing up on him. Sif scowled, her plans for pouncing now in ruins. Her only comfort was that his softly spoken question came loaded with all sorts of wicked insinuations. The type that made her skin prickle with anticipation. _

"_No," she answered with a touch of defiance. Shame that the effect was somewhat weakened by the huskiness of her voice. She really must have been screaming his name last night. The thought made her uncomfortable but it didn't stop her from leaning over his shoulder to see what he was working on. It was a deliberate invasion of his personal space; an ebony curl brushing against his cheek, the soft warmth of her breasts pressing against the leather of his tunic. _

_Loki turned the page of the book in front of him, he didn't even spare her so much as a glance. Nor did he seemed affected by her closeness. "Breakfast has been laid out on the other table."_

_Sif couldn't help giving the pictures a look of suspicion. They appeared to be illustrations of plants with various markings for chemicals beneath them. What need did the Prince have to study vegetation? Particularly the morning after a feast. Was his head not sore and heavy like the rest of the warriors? _

_Annoyed that her presence was proving to be less disruptive than she had envisaged, Sif couldn't stop herself from provoking him. "What are you doing?" It was a bland question delivered in a bored voice by a person who clearly had no interest. Exactly the sort of thing that Loki had no patience for. _

_The corners of his mouth twitched slightly as if he were repressing a smile. "Come now my lady," he replied in a cool, measured manner, "We both know you are no scholar."_

_Sif made no effort to hide her indignant huff. Just because she favoured a swordfight with a worthy opponent over spending time in Asgard's vast libraries did not mean that she was lacking in intelligence. "I'm sure I can keep up." _

_A chair appeared rather conveniently by Loki's side. "Very well." For the first time that morning, Loki turned his head to look directly at her. There was a glint of something akin to amusement in his eyes even though his narrow mouth remained stern and unsmiling. _

_Sif's gaze raked over him, drinking in every detail of the prince's appearance in a way that would have seemed utterly foreign to her just yesterday. She supposed that she was looking to find out what had suddenly made him so alluring last night. He was extraordinarily good-looking, she would give him that. If you preferred the dark, sleek and brooding type. Which she didn't. And she didn't feel an uneasy frisson of attraction towards him either. She definitely didn't want to slowly unfasten his clothing in order to trail her hands over the lithe body beneath. Or to bite down on that lower lip which was just begging to be tasted…_

_It was embarrassingly difficult to tear her gaze away from him. Chiding herself once again for acting so ridiculously, Sif gave the newly appeared chair a sharp kick. Both to test that it was real and not some clever illusion of his intended to trick her and also to vent her increasing frustration at this entire situation. _

_Loki waited with exaggerated politeness until Sif was settled upon the chair before speaking. "A new breed of snake has infiltrated the lands of Nidvellir, possibly drawn there by their rather unique combination of blazing furnaces and damp, dark caverns. It is proving to be quite a troublesome foe for the dwarves; small, quick, fangs sharp enough to pierce chainmail and a venomous bite which can kill within hours. The usual antidotes and treatments are ineffectual." Loki tugged another book out from beneath the one that he had been studying. Anatomical sketches of snakes and tiny, cramped notes covered the pages. "It is my belief that this new variant is derived from a Midgardian species. By studying the venom of its predecessor, I should be able to produce the right mixture of -"_

_Loki's eyes lit up with passion when he was discussing his research, his usually guarded composure giving way to animation. His fingers would trail lovingly across the pages, his smiles were quick, eager and seemed much more genuine. Sif couldn't recall ever seeing the younger Prince like this but then again she hadn't been paying much attention before. His tongue would flick out to moisten his lips as he talked. That tiny, probably unconscious, gesture made heat uncurl in the very pit of her body. Staring at his mouth, all Sif could think about was how much she wanted to feel his tongue gliding against hers. She had a vague awareness that he was speaking of Healers and the All-Father, of diplomatic relations and medicinal trade and that he was starting to grow wary, an edge of annoyance creeping into his rich voice as he realised she wasn't paying full attention to his words._

_There were many reasons why she shouldn't lean forward and take his face in her hands. Reasons which were vitally important and concerned a certain God of Thunder. But reason and desire were often opposites and Sif had a tendency towards seizing what she wanted rather than listening to caution. Why else would she have chosen a difficult path as a shieldmaiden rather than meekly accepting a suitable position as a lady at Court? _

_She cut Loki off mid-sentence. Her lips felt clumsy and overenthusiastic as they pressed against his. There was a pause of two, no three, heartbeats where he didn't respond, his lips unmoving beneath hers, his hands still clutching the dusty tome. She was almost ready to pull back when the book landed with a thud on the floor, one of his hands winding its way into her hair, his mouth was hungry and fierce against hers, his tongue immediately demanding dominion over hers. _

_She fought back; her tongue pushing past his in attempt to invade his mouth, her hands roaming over his body unfastening the various buckles and clips of his armour. Mind clouded by lust, she was successful in forcing aside the doubtful voice which was trying to whisper caution. Right now, she didn't care that Loki was different from the men she had previously shared a bed with, that he was royalty, that he was Thor's brother. _

_She had no hesitation in closing the space between them, in straddling him and tugging sharply on his hair so that he tilted his head upwards allowing her mouth access to the temptation of his throat. She was surprised that he had let her this far without assuming control. The near-certain knowledge that he would snap and seek to assert his authority added to the tension, to her eagerness. It had the perverse effect of making her want to push him further, find out exactly where those boundaries lay. _

_Pushing aside his shirt, she paused for a moment to trace her fingers lightly over the darkening bruise on his shoulder. Although, the wound was already healing, she could still see the deepness of her teeth marks, the vivid black-purple of the surrounding skin standing as testament to the pain that she must have inflicted on him last night. Sif's stomach recoiled at the sight. She might enjoy a bit of roughness with her lovers, if only to prove that she was their equal, but this, her touch was ghost-like over the damaged skin, she could never take pleasure in hurting her partner. _

_However, any apologies she would have given him died away when she looked up to find him wearing a look of unmistakable pride. "You were very determined not to scream." As his hands slipped under her robes, his gleeful smirk widened into a grin that was pure mischief. "I wonder just how hard can you bite?" _

_Without warning, he kicked back the chair and rose to his feet. Strong arms kept her in place, tightly pressed against his hardening body. She had no need to wrap herself around him as he carried her back to his bed but she did so nonetheless._

* * *

"_I trust that you will be discrete about this matter."_

_Loki's words startled her not least because it was as if he had stolen them from her tongue. Those were meant to be her words, her warning that this dalliance meant little but would cost her partner dearly if news of it reached the ears of others. It was disconcerting to be the one hearing them. Especially when delivered in such a dispassionate manner._

_Looking up from her drink, Sif felt something tighten in her chest at the cold, impersonal demeanour of the man before her. Dressed fully in his usual garb of light armour and leather, Loki looked exactly like the prince she had known but not noticed for so many years. She saw no trace of her passionate and surprisingly generous lover in the stiff, controlled creature before her. Loki's ability to entirely transform himself in a matter of minutes was unnerving. It made her wonder which persona was real and which was the clever mask._

"_Of course," she retorted letting her voice fill with all the scorn and contempt that she would have previously treated a suggestion that she could find the younger prince attractive. For good measure, she threw in a dismissive glance over his body as if he was barely worth the effort._

_Perhaps, it was just a trick of the light but something cold and dead seemed to slither into the blue of his eyes. It was gone before Sif could even blink let alone question it further. _

_His mouth turned upwards in a familiar, mocking smile. "I shall leave you to see yourself out. Matters of state and all that." His drawling tone was dripping with self-importance as he gestured vaguely in the direction of his desk. Before she could say anything further, he turned abruptly on his heel and strode out of the chambers. _

**Chapter 5 teaser:**

'_He ruins women Sif.'_

**_As ever any feedback would be greatly appreciated! :) xo_**


	5. Chapter 5

_**5/6**_

_**Overwhelmed by all the lovely reviews that this fic has recently received. Thank you so much to BulmaBriefs999, murdur, xLevitate love16run Lemomina, Princess PrettyPants and Guest reviewers for your kind reviews. They have definitely been fantastic motivation! If I promised to check out anyone's fics, I promise I will definitely do so at the weekend. I just wanted to get this chapter up as soon as possible to thank you all.**_

_**Guest reviewers, I can't PM you to thank you directly so I've replied at the end of this chapter. **_

_**Last two chapters are more angsty. As ever, I hope you enjoy.**_

_**xo**_

**Chapter 5**

_Sif had known from the very beginning that she would regret her dalliance with the younger Prince of Asgard. She just hadn't known how much. Or the way in which she would regret it. _

_Over the weeks that followed that feast of celebration, Loki consumed her. In the practice arena, she was distracted by the graceful form of his figure as he dodged blow after blow from an increasingly irate opponent. At dinner, she found herself staring at his long, pale fingers as they wrapped around a goblet. When she heard a whisper of his nickname 'Silvertongue' amongst the ladies at court, her mind would flash back to those green eyes gazing up at her, full of mischief and pride, as his mouth pleasured her intimately. Her body longed for him. The lightest touch of his hand against her skin no matter how innocuous the setting sent fire through her blood. The knowing gleam in his eyes across a room made her heart beat that tiny bit faster. It was a kind of madness that she had never experienced before. So alien to her that there were times she genuinely wondered if he had cast some enchantment on her._

_It was as much curiosity as it was lust that brought her back to his bed chambers night after night. Loki had always been a reserved figure in public. Quiet. Watchful. It was difficult to discern his true opinion on anything. He held a certain measure of fascination for Sif. A fascination which only grew as she uncovered more and more of his contradictions. _

_She learned that the dark shadows under his eyes were due to studying and working late into the night. Medicine. History. Literature. Sorcery. These were just a few of the interests that he pursued outside and on occasion as part of his royal duties. She saw for herself the various missives that the All-Father sent to his youngest son asking for his opinion on the politics of a particular realm or requesting assistance with the complex myriad of legislation and codes that made up the law of Asgard. Letters bearing the insignia of the Healers were also rarely absent from his desk. His knowledge of magic and medicine was sought for the most intractable, most difficult and most sorrowful of cases. _

_She learned that he was often careless of his own welfare. That he would become so absorbed in whatever problem he was trying to solve that he would forget to eat or sleep. Sometimes, he seemed determined to work himself into exhaustion as if he had something to prove. The Queen worried about him, that much was clear from the excessive amount of food that she arranged to be delivered to his chambers each and every time he missed a formal meal. That and the sweet smelling bunches of fresh lavender, picked specially from her private garden, which would mysteriously appear in his chambers when he seemed particularly weary at Court. _

_She learned that her favourite position was on top so that she watch him come undone. She loved to drink in those brief seconds where he was lost in pleasure, glittering eyes half closed, dark lashes sweeping against the pallor of his skin, swollen lips parted, that look of ecstasy on his features. It hadn't failed yet to make her unravel with him. Of course, Loki disliked this position; he seemed to view it as her asserting dominion over him. He much preferred to be the one in control. Once in exasperation, as Sif tried to flip their positions, he had halted proceedings altogether and demanded to know why. Sif wasn't much of a wordsmith herself but nonetheless she had tried to explain. Blushing horribly the whole time, because really who ever talked about these intimate matters?! And once again, seething with resentment that he was so capable of using her body against her. In return, he had simply smirked and remarked if that was best thing about coupling with him then he would have to do better. She had spent the rest of that night writhing beneath him begging and cursing for release. She did however notice that his protests were much more muted the next time she seized control. It seemed he was willing to sacrifice his need to be dominant in order to satisfy her. If only occasionally. _

_That was something that always puzzled her. Loki was so eager to please as a lover, so willing to give and surprisingly reticent when it came to asking for anything in return. It didn't fit with the arrogant, selfish Prince she had always thought of him as. It was mainly through chance or experimentation that she learned how to please him. His kisses were more forceful when she tugged at his hair. If she kissed the pulse spot on his throat just hard enough he would moan. A slight shiver would pass him when she slid her hands teasingly over his thighs almost touching him where he needed it the most._

_Perhaps, the biggest difference between Loki and the other men she had been with, was how he acted afterwards. He would wrap his limbs around her, hold her close enough so that their hearts beat against one another. No matter how fierce their coupling had been, no matter how hard she had marked him, afterwards his hands were always gentle, his kisses tender. Sif did not cuddle with her lovers. She did not sigh contentedly against their skin and stay the night in their beds. She certainly didn't relish something which was strangely more intimate than the physical act of coupling._

_Except, she did with Loki. She knew that doing such things could only lead to emotional involvement, something which would be a disaster with any man let alone Loki Odinson, but she did it anyway. It was the mixture of disbelief and amazement in his eyes that drove her. Sometimes, Loki seemed desperate for affection, for some sort of validation. _

_Sif found it highly disconcerting. There was such a mismatch between his acerbic, emotionally cold, public persona and the softer, warmer side he demonstrated to her each night. Perhaps, he thought that she would find it seductive, that he could fool her into believing that he was capable of such feelings. It only led to a sense of growing mistrust. Sometimes, just for her own sanity, she would harden her heart against the silent plea in his eyes to stay. She would dress herself and leave. She would remind herself with every step away from his bed chambers that these glimpses of vulnerability were nothing more than a clever game on his behalf. He was after all remarkably talented at lying and manipulation. Only sometimes though. Mostly, she found herself surrendering, waking up in his luxurious bed more often than her own. It seemed that her body was remarkably treacherous when it came to the dark Prince. _

_Who knows how long this madness would have continued if Fandral had not intervened…_

* * *

_The clang of metal and smell of sweat filled the air. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she lunged forward, the tip of her lance catching her opponent off balance and causing them to tumble with little dignity onto the sandy surface of the training arena. With a triumphant laugh, Sif struck her lance firmly in the ground. Flicking her hair away from the damp skin of her neck and shoulders, Sif couldn't resist a bit of taunting. "What exactly were you saying about force over speed again?" _

_Volstagg muttered darkly under his breath but he knew when he was beaten. He begrudgingly accepted the hand Sif held out to him. "I'm not sure I quite recall it." He smoothed down his beard before placing an anxious hand on his stomach. "In any case, I was considerably weakened by the fact I haven't had my afternoon snack yet."_

_A malicious laugh came seemingly out of no-where. "Mealtimes are the only occasion on which I've ever seen you move with haste." Loki sauntered past with a vindictive smirk plastered upon his pale, aristocratic features. _

_Sif had fully intended to shoot him a look of disgust but found herself slightly distracted by the drop of sweat that was trickling slowly down his throat. Beside her, the largest and arguably most sensitive of the Warriors Three bristled with indignation. _

"_Indeed, brother," Loki called over his shoulder to the elder Prince, "Perhaps, our latest battle strategy should be send our enemies a platter of the finest delicacies Asgard has to offer." He gave the recipient of his teasing a wide grin ostensibly to indicate it was just a bit of good natured fun but his eyes, sapphire blue and just as cold, were full of spite. "Then ask Volstagg to retrieve it." _

_This drew a few loud guffaws from the surrounding warriors. Sif had to reach out a restraining hand as Volstagg stepped forward in anger, thick, strong fingers curling around his axe, chest heaving as he snatched furious breaths of the humid air. _

_Loki's gaze flickered to the axe before he caught Volstagg's furious stare with one of his own. Flashes of silver darted through the air as Loki used magic to summon his own weapon of choice, beautifully crafted knives, back into his hands. "Not anymore," he said softly. There was an underlying current of emotion in those words. A hint at the some of the more unpleasant aspects of his earlier relationship with the Warriors Three. _

_The older warrior was the first to break away. "Speaking of platters?" He patted his stomach with exaggerated mirth playing to the audience that the younger Prince had so expertly set up. _

_Thor's laughter boomed the loudest. Glancing over at him, seeing his handsome, golden features lit up with merriment, Sif wondered if he really was blind to the dark undertones. To the seething resentment that his younger brother still felt towards some of 'their' old playmates. To the hurt in Volstagg's warm, brown eyes. To the contemptuous glances at the warrior's girth that Loki's sharp gibes had inspired. Was Thor even aware of the power of words? That they, especially when coming from Loki's clever tongue, could be just as forceful or as destructive as Mjolnir?_

_The warriors were scattering now. Most of them following Thor and Volstagg to the kitchen where some unfortunate servant would have the task of appeasing their hunger. Thor's red cape fluttered in the breeze as he placed an arm around Volstagg's broad shoulders. The comforting gesture made Sif smile slightly. Perhaps, Thor was not as oblivious as she had first thought. _

_A hand cupped her elbow. "Would you care to share a flask of mead with me this evening?" _

_Sif had to fight down her disappointment at hearing Fandral's voice instead of the refined, silky tones of the younger Prince. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Loki striding in the opposite direction of the others, a servant dressed in the colours of the Healers, scurrying by his side. She hoped they wouldn't keep him too late tonight. _

_She turned to her friend, an excuse already forming on her lips, something vague and uninteresting, which wouldn't attract his curiosity. Something which wouldn't hint that she intended to spend the evening naked and in Loki's arms. _

_Fandral gave a pointed nod at the departing figure of the Trickster. "Unless you are otherwise engaged?"_

_Ah. Damn._

* * *

_The tavern that Fandral had chosen was one of his favourites. A small cosy place with roaring fires and plush comfortable booths for private conversation. Judging by the salacious looks the serving maidens were giving him, it wasn't just the furnishings or mead that attracted his custom time and time again. The mead was delicious even if it was not to Sif's taste, she preferred something less saccharine._

"_You're playing a very dangerous game." Fandral set down his flask, his intense blue eyes fixing on her with a look of concern. _

_Sif raised her eyebrows in query. She would not have anyone judge her personal life, especially a friend who had made some fairly questionable choices themselves. Out of all the warriors, Fandral was the worst when it came to making sport of women. He pursued them, seduced them, enjoyed them and then moved on to the next target when he inevitably got bored. He had no right to find fault with her actions. He practised promiscuity under the guise of romance, she at least was brutally honest about her needs and intentions. _

"_What I do in my own private time-" Sif started calmly._

_Fandral cut her off. "Bedding one brother when you are in love with the other?" He shook his head disapprovingly. "You know that cannot end well. For anyone involved." He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. "I say this to you as your dear friend Sif. As a friend to you all."_

_Sif pulled away from his touch. "I know not what you are speaking of." Her words were firmly delivered but hollow in their conviction. _

_The blond warrior sat back in his seat and raised the flask once again to his lips. "I've seen the way you look at Silvertongue. You flush even as I mention that name." He took a deep gulp of his mead as if to steady his nerves. "You are not first to do so."_

_Sif scowled at this reminder of the younger Prince's past. She barely thought about the women that came before her in Loki's bed and she preferred it that way._

_Fandral leant forward again, an urgency filling his voice as he spoke. "He ruins women Sif." He must have caught her disbelieving look because he sighed with exasperation and took another draught of his mead before changing tact. "You may look upon Loki with desire now but you have always loved Thor." He held up a placatory hand as she gave a furious gasp at his newfound boldness when it came to discussing her private life. "Please do not dishonour me by denying what is true. I've seen it with my own eyes. I've known all these years and I have not once mentioned it or betrayed your confidence."_

_Sif's eyes narrowed in warning. "Until now." The quick smile she flashed at him was no more a baring of teeth._

_For a few minutes, there was silence between them. The usual sounds of the tavern continued to swirl around them, laughter, the crackling of fire, the thud of barrels and flasks but none of it seemed to fully fill the quiet space surrounding them. Fandral was staring into his flask, it seemed as though he was weighing up his next words very carefully. Something, Sif was both glad and suspicious of. Fandral had never seen fit to meddle in anyone's life before, he was very much an easy-going charmer and inclined to pay little attention to rumour or gossip. Despite her anger, Sif couldn't help feeling a prick of unease that he seemed to think that it was necessary to interfere in her personal affairs._

_He raised his gaze from the flask, a look of determination settling on his handsome features. Only the quick movement of his throat as he swallowed indicated that he was apprehensive about what he was going to say next. "If Thor finds out about you and Loki, he will not have you."_

_Hurt slammed through Sif directly into her chest. She clenched her fingers tightly around the unfortunate flask in her hand, barely registering the alarming splintering sound that it was making under the increased pressure. "I thought Thor was more enlightened than that." It shamed her to hear how choked she sounded, how emotions were getting the better of her. Thor was very far from virginal himself; she hated to think that he of all people would cling to the old ridiculous notions of feminine purity._

"_If you are Loki's woman, he will not have you," Fandral repeated solemnly, "Thor loves his brother dearly; for all his jesting, he would not hurt him. Oh Sif." There was a horrifying note of sympathy in his voice as he hastened to explain further. "Loki has been sweet on you for so very long. Did you not know that it was him who argued most powerfully for your acceptance as a warrior? Did you not notice that in battle he was always the first to move in your defence?" Fandral's expression was increasingly giving way to incredulity. "Did you not once feel his gaze lingering upon you?" _

_From the way Fandral was speaking of Loki, Sif could no longer be sure who exactly his sympathy was for. It sounded like he pitied the Prince who had apparently been infatuated all this time with a woman who had barely spared him a glance. No wonder he had not refused her when she finally came to his bed. _

"_Loki would have known of course from the very moment his lips touched yours that he was making a claim." Fandral reached for her hand again and this time Sif did not pull away as he gave it an understanding squeeze, "A claim which Thor would never break."_

_Shock raced through Sif's veins as she took in the meaning behind her friend's words. By succumbing to Loki's particular brand of dark temptation, she might just have lost any prospect of being with the man she truly loved. And he had known this. Loki had known this all along._

**Chapter 6 teaser**

'_You can confide in me.'_

_**Last chapter upcoming….! Please do let me know what you think. xo**_

_**Guest 09/02/2013 – Thank you! Especially for your kind words about Sif, it's fab to hear that she is in character. No need to say sorry for your English at all, it was perfect. And kudos for guessing it was Fandral! :D xo**_

_**Guest 09/04/2013 – Aw thanks! I imagine Loki had a fluffy side pre-Thor, perhaps not so much anymore… xo**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**6/6**_

_**Final chapter guys! I hope it will not disappoint. Also it's loooooong!**_

_**Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favourited and reviewed this fic. Best motivation to keep trying to write for a character as complex as Loki.**_

_**Special thanks to murdur, 'Guest', 'Guest', Lemomina and dragonupgost for your reviews! Very much appreciated indeed. Guests as I can't PM you I've replied to you below. I hope you won't mind. **_

_**Super special thanks to murdur who has been with this fic from the start. If you are a Sif/Loki fan please do check out their fics which are absolutely wonderful. My current favourite is 'Twofold'. **_

_**xo **_

**Chapter 6**

_Sif would often think back to the night before Fandral's intervention. Loki's dark hair had felt like raw silk slipping through her fingers. His lips and tongue had been exquisitely soft as they drifted over hers in long, lingering kisses. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes, she could still feel his hands trailing up and down her back, stroking her bare skin with something close to reverence. Their bodies had moved together in a slow, steady undulating rhythm. For once Sif had been no hurry for more. She remembered wanting to savour every moment. The heat and smoothness of his flesh against hers. The sensation of being completely one with him. Being so close to him that she could feel his lashes brush against her face as he closed his eyes. Hearing the low moan of pleasure that escaped his lips. Feeling full and satisfied and utterly adored. Maybe some part of her had known that was the last time. That she would never share this wonderful intimacy with Loki again. _

_It drove her mad. She longed for him so much that it was a physical ache. The nights without him were long and wearisome. She found little release in sleep as memories of him would taunt her in painfully vivid dreams. She would awaken damp and shaking with lust, her hands curled up in fists ready to pummel the guiltless mattress in her frustration. Perhaps this was what Fandral had been hinting at in the tavern when he said Loki ruined women. _

_The first few nights she didn't return to Loki's chambers, he said nothing. He gave her a mildly inquiring look when she arrived at training but that was apparently as far as his concern extended. Sif wasn't above admitting that his nonchalance stung her pride. _

_When her absence continued for a week, he started to look more sharply at her, she could feel those keen, blue eyes on her, studying her, analysing her. She had to stiffen her resolve. She would not return to him. She would not bed him again. No matter how much she missed his hands upon her body, his voice whispering in her ear, she would not give in. She had erred gravely in entering into this torrid affair, the only thing she could do now was to try and repair the damage. The sooner, she put this whole madness behind her, the sooner it could be forgotten and perhaps Thor would never have to find out. Perhaps she wouldn't have ruined her chances with the God of Thunder after all. It was a strange, desperate reasoning, she knew that but it was all the hope she had. _

_Loki never questioned her or her decision. Sif wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. On the one hand if he truly cared for her as much as Fandral had implied then he would have fought for her. Like a proper warrior, he would have demanded reasons for her cold behaviour towards him, her sudden indifference to his charms. On the other hand, he had respected her wishes. Whereas other men may have sought out an ugly confrontation or threatened to expose their affair, Loki withdrew into himself. Sif no longer felt his heated gaze upon her, no longer caught glimpses of a playful smirk playing on those narrow lips. It was disquieting how that realisation felt within her heart. _

_It hurt._

* * *

_When Thor turned to her one evening and commented that his brother seemed unusually quiet of late, Sif had to mask her true feelings. Thor had been awkward, he often was when he came to discussing anything to do with matters of the heart. Still, despite his reluctance for emotional chitchat, he had confided in her. Told her that Loki was barely eating, that he was avoiding company even that of his elder brother, that he was spending more time than ever consumed in those dreary books of his. _

_As Thor frowned and fretted, Sif had to fight back her horror of being found out and the sickening guilt that came afterwards at this being her primary concern. She had forced a smile upon her face and teased Thor for worrying too much. She had played shamelessly upon the relative strangeness of Loki's preference for scholarly pursuits over the more physical activities that Thor found pleasure in. Reassured slightly, Thor had thanked her, placing a warm hand on her shoulder, his beaming smile full of that inherent goodness which was so unique to him._

_Sif later blamed her sense of remorse for her body's dull reaction to his touch. Whereas Loki's long fingers would have sent sparks all through her body with such a simple gesture, Thor's did nothing. _

_It was lust. Nothing more than that. Animalistic, meaningless lust. That's what Sif reminded herself every time she caught herself looking at the dark haired prince instead of the golden one. She fought a vicious battle within on a daily basis. It was Hel to observe those beautiful hands as Loki conversed with the All-Father, their elegant movements clearly emphasising a particular point in his argument. It was even worse when he would loosen his shirt after a vigorous set of training exercises. For some reason those rolled up sleeves exposing his slim forearms and the few loosened buttons on his shirt made her body clench with a longing that Thor's golden muscles could never achieve. Perhaps, the lowest point was when she noticed how his tongue darted out to swipe blood from the corner of his mouth after Hogan succeeded in landing a hard blow to his head during battle practice. It disgusted her that she could find such a perverse thing so erotic. _

_She had to keep strong. She had to overcome this weakness. She loved Thor. He was the one she wanted to be with. He was the one who was perfect for her. Thor. Not Loki. Thor. Always Thor._

* * *

_It was in the aftermath of another mission that Sif's will crumpled. It was intended to be a quick stealthy affair but an unfortunate run in with a couple of rebel trolls had changed everything. _

_On this rare occasion, it was Hogun who got in harm's way. He swore that the troll's blade had barely skimmed over his flesh and indeed in the beginning there was only a thin line of red etched on his neck. An unsettling reminder of just how close he had come to being beheaded. Except the blade must have been poisoned because minutes after they fled the scene, Hogan collapsed. Falling off his horse mid gallop, foaming at the mouth, whimpering at unseen phantoms. The mild scratch on his neck had already turned black and was oozing a disturbing shade of yellow pus. _

_It was the first time, Sif saw Thor flounder in his command. He had stood over his friend's body clearly distraught and panicking. None of them had ever been severely injured before and it was obvious that the Thunderer was lost._

_It had been Loki who maintained a sense of calm control. Loki who had issued clear orders in a measured voice even as he knelt down beside Hogun and re-examined the wound on his neck. Naturally, Sif and the rest of the Warriors Three had turned to Thor for validation of the younger Prince's demands. A fact which did not escape the Trickster's attention judging by the bitter twist to his lips as he attended his patient. Observing his administrations, Sif could only recall how easy he made it look. A spark had entered his eyes as his all too clever, quicksilver mind worked out the puzzle. Maybe that was why none of the others appeared to recognise the skill with which Loki had saved their friend's life. Volstagg had given Loki a grateful slap on the back and Fandral a few murmured words of thanks which hardly seemed adequate. Even afterwards in the Great Hall, Thor made much of how bravely they had fought against the trolls, naturally emphasising the importance of his own role as the bearer of Mjolnir. Loki's act of healing was never even mentioned. Hogun did not want to suffer the sympathy and sentiment that such a tale would provoke. Thor did not want the All-Father to know how close his son had come to losing one of Asgard's finest warriors. The rest of them wanted to forget those terrifying few hours where they forced to confront the truth about their supposed invincibility. _

_Still, Loki could have said something instead of listening intently to his brother's boasts at the evening meal. That is apart from occasionally adding a dry remark to the God of Thunder's commentary. As hard as she studied those handsome features, Sif couldn't penetrate the perfectly crafted mask that Loki wore to conceal his true feelings. In the end, she gave up trying, joined in the rest of Thor's rapt audience and tried not to think about how the berry wine tasted exactly like the one she had drank that first night with the younger Prince. At one moment, she glanced up from her goblet mid laugh and caught the Trickster watching her with an extraordinary mix of hunger and sadness in the dark blue of his eyes. It was a look which stole her breath away, igniting all those forbidden desires she thought she had successfully quashed. _

_Was it that look that brought her back to his chambers that night? Or was it the memories that the wine provoked? Perhaps, it was the result of all those weeks away from Asgard, sleeping each night in agonisingly close proximity to her former lover, listening to his quiet, even breathing and knowing that she couldn't reach out for him. Whatever the reason, Sif found herself walking down a golden corridor in the palace that had once been a familiar route. _

* * *

"_Guards, you are dismissed." There was no hesitation before they departed, no indication that Loki's order was in direct contradiction to Odin's general command for all guards to remain at their positions no matter what. It seemed as though Loki's personal sentries have been taught very well as to who was their true master. _

_The Prince himself stood outside in the corridor, his feet planted wide apart in a familiar power stance, his frame steady and upright despite the considerable amount of alcohol he was meant to have consumed at the dinner table. One of the doors to his chambers was half open but neither of them made any move towards it._

_Sif had anticipated some awkwardness, she had after all just broken things off without so much as a word of explanation, but not this. She had thought he would have at least let her into his chambers instead of conducting their affairs in an area which was only semi-private. _

_A slow smile crept over Loki's mouth as he took a moment to survey her. "My lady." His voice was low and gentle, the softest she had ever heard it. For some reason, it sent a shiver of unease down her spine. "What brings you to me this evening?" The smile deepened a little. "Or should I ask who?"_

_Unsettled, Sif barely managed to restrain herself from frowning at his choice of greeting. "I missed your company," she replied with what she hoped was disarming honesty._

_Loki continued as if she hadn't spoken at all. "Was it the lovely Aurora?" His tone was conversational but with each word an underlying intensity was beginning to emerge. "Or perhaps, Iliana? She is quite the beauty if a slightly dull conversationalist. Although, my brother would scarcely concerned himself with that." His laughter was brittle. _

_Sif shook her head in a pointless denial; her eyes, widened with horror, had already given her away. "No..."_

"_Oh come now Lady Sif," Loki was practically purring the words. He spread his hands out invitingly. "You can confide in me. Am I not a reliable source of comfort when it comes to my brothers' cast-offs?" _

_Despite her best efforts, Sif flinched at his cruel taunt. Not least because it had an element of truth to it. She knew that involuntary movement was a mistake even before the moment Loki's sharp eyes observed it._

"_It's been all about him, hasn't it?" His voice was so quiet that Sif had to strain her ears to hear it. It was heavy, full of a hurt resignation that made her own heart ache. _

_Silence stretched out between them. Loki seemed to be struggling to maintain control over his emotions, the elegant hands that had given her such pleasure clenching momentarily into fists before loosening again. His jaw was taut with tension, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Loki never lost control, never gave in to his temper. Seeing him this close to the edge alarmed Sif more than if it had been Thor reaching for his beloved Mjolnir. _

"_It's always about him." _

_Sif took a step forward, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm, "Loki…" She wanted to explain, to tell him that maybe it had been about Thor at the start but that wasn't the case now._

"_I should have known." Even when quietly spoken, Loki somehow managed to imbue his words with a bitter ferocity. "Why else would you come to my chambers like a common whore if not to make Thor jealous?" The Prince gave her a sly, malicious smile. "Except, it didn't quite work out as planned. He didn't notice. You lowered yourself to rut with his brother and he notices not." There was manic edge to Loki's chuckle. "That's how little he cares for you Lady Sif. How little regard he has for you as a woman."_

_It was Sif's turn to curl up her hands into fists, to feel a sting of rejection at his vicious words. Then just as suddenly, he turned his gaze upon her, his clear blue eyes so similar to Thor's in this golden light, were full of hurt, full of something uncomfortably close to desperation as he asked in a broken voice; "Did you think to settle for second best?" _

_Stunned, by both his question and rapid swings in temper, Sif could barely summon the words to argue back. "No! Loki, you have to listen-"_

_Loki cut her off with a snarl, rage contorting his handsome features into something sinister and twisted. "Because that's all I am. All I will ever be." He stalked away from her, taking only a few steps before he spun around to confront her again. "I can never match up to the mighty Thor. Can I?" Resentment oozed from every syllable. "The Pyrite Prince who gains so much adoration and for what? Any half-wit could run around smashing the world with a hammer! _

_Time and time again, he exposes himself, his companions and whatever realm is unfortunate enough to be hosting him to reckless idiocy. He can barely control himself from lashing out at anyone or anything who dares to question his over inflated sense of worth." All Loki's usual finesse was gone, his mouth no more than a menacing gash in his face, his sapphire eyes mesmerising as they burned brightly against his pale complexion. "You all are guilty of indulging him in his petty excesses, of condoning, no! –worse still praising his violence as heroic when truly it is a sign of his inadequacy as a leader. _

_What of those who have noble gifts to offer? Those who respect and learn from the wisdom of their predecessors? Who slave every day and night in servitude for a realm which shows regard for nothing other than wretched thunder and lightning?"_

_As she began to retreat backwards and away from the furious Prince, Sif wasn't sure what she found most terrifying. The pure, undiluted rage and hatred in those ultramarine depths or the tears which were threatening to spill over onto his cheeks. For just a few brief seconds, Loki had allowed the carefully constructed façade to slip and Sif could see the ugly truth that laid beneath his charm and lies. _

"_You hate him," she whispered breathlessly, shock threatening to overwhelm her. There had always been sibling rivalry between the two brothers, that was only natural but this, what Loki had just revealed, went far beyond that. "You truly hate your own brother."_

_It was as if someone snuffed out a candle. All the animosity and fury simply drained away, gone in less than the blink of an eye. And it was the Loki she had known for all these years who stood before her. Calm and composed, a slight smirk playing on his lips, blue-green eyes once again empty of emotion. "Oh Sif," he began with a touch of patronising affection as if he were about to scold a wayward child, "I could never hate my dearest brother. Why I simply-"_

"_No." Her voice was hard and cold. Her hand instinctively came to rest on the bejewelled handle of her dagger as she continued to step backwards. Just a few more yards down the corridor and they would be in the presence of guards once again._

_For the first time that evening, Loki actually listened to her. His gaze flickered from her lips which were curled back in disgust to the fingers she had wrapped around the dagger's helm. A stricken look flashed across his face before he successfully managed to repress it. It only served to make Sif grimace even further. Such sentiments were nothing more than a pretence, a clever manipulation of emotion by the Trickster. Just like his love for Thor. "I know the truth of you Loki Odinson," she met his gaze unflinchingly as she retreated into the adjoining corridor with its rows of well armoured guards, "And I will never forget it." _

* * *

She had been true to her word; keeping the memory of that confrontation burning and alive in her memory for decades afterwards. She had watched the younger Prince closely, all traces of desire vanquished by the knowledge of what lay beneath that calm mask. There had been a hint of something close to madness in his eyes that night and such instability was ill suited to a powerful sorcerer let alone a potential heir to the throne of Asgard. When the time came, when Thor was banished, when Odin was asleep and when Loki ascended onto the throne that was not rightfully his, she had acted swiftly and decisively. She had no hesitation in deposing the Trickster King of Asgard. She had done what she truly believed was the right course of action. That's what she consoled herself with when she lay awake and alone in the darkest hours of the night with guilt and sorrow corroding her insides.

It was sobering to cast her mind back and recall the events of the past few years. Feuds had escalated, losses had been suffered, hearts won and entire realms exposed to danger and warfare. Twice now, the Royal Family and subjects of Asgard had mourned for their youngest Prince. Except for Sif. She would not grieve for a man who had caused so much pain and anguish to those she loved. And the fact that in the end he had sacrificed himself for Asgard? For Thor? What right had he to seek redemption in death when he had been so scornful of it in life?

So lost was she in her thoughts and memories that Sif was slower than usual to react to the cries of alarm surrounding her. Startled from her reverie, Sif's hand automatically grasped the helm of her sword as she leapt to attention along with the rest of the warriors including the Warriors Three. Guests were pushing chairs away from their tables, guards rushing in through the various entrances, the Royal Family rising to their feet. And all because of the dark smoke gathering and swirling in the centre of the room. Sparks of vivid blue light darted between the threads of darkness as it began to take shape. The scent of magic permeated through the air which seemed to be sinking several degrees lower in temperature. Snakes. That's what the thick flumes of grey seemed to represent as they reached ever higher towards the ceiling. Glancing to the King for command, Sif puzzled over the All-Father's reaction. His hand was firmly placed around Thor's on Mjolnir as if he were restraining the Prince from using the weapon. There was a curious mixture of fear and hope on his heavily lined face, a spark of life back in the aged blue eyes which had recently been filled with such sorrow.

There was only one reason why the All-Father would wear that look. One impossible reason.

A bright blue orb glowed amidst the lightening smoke before there was an authoritative thud, one which did not come from Gungnir, then suddenly the air was clear again and the Great Hall full of golden light. Gasps reverberated around the vast space as the people got their first glimpse of what had replaced the billowing columns of smoke. Sif's knees almost gave way at the shock of seeing that darkly clothed figure once again.

_Loki. _

He stood tall and defiant, his pale face unsmiling as his gaze travelled slowly around the grandeur of the Great Hall. He was unarmoured, alone and with no weapon other than the blue-tipped sceptre in his right hand. And he had never seemed more dangerous. Even in her current state of disbelief, Sif couldn't help noticing the contrast between the man he had been before and the man he was now. His hair was freshly cut, his lean frame filled out, he looked very much like someone who had been cared for, nurtured. Beyond these minor details, there was the distinctly more worrying fact of the raw power that seemed to pulsate through him. Magic and energy so potent that it crackled in the air surrounding him. This was not the broken God of Mischief that had returned before, bound and gagged and seething with resentment at his defeat on Midgard. This was an entirely unknown entity and therefore an even greater threat.

It was the Queen who broke the silence. Her soft cry of "Loki," filling the air, a mother's joy and anguish jumbled up in one word, the name of her son. Did anyone dare to try and restrain her as she ran to him? Or, were they still frozen, their mouths gaping at what could only be a ghost? His form soon proved solid enough when the Queen embraced him, flinging her arms around his neck, tears pouring down her face as she whispered his name over and over again in a prayer of thanks. A highly unusual display of emotion but one that could be easily understood in the circumstances.

Loki didn't let go of the sceptre which Thor was eyeing up with increasing horror but he did wrap one arm tightly around the Queen, drawing her closer, bending his head to hers. "Mother," he breathed his voice full of reverence.

It was only then that Odin's hand fell away from Thor's.

Loki was cupping the Queen's face, his own softening with the smile he reserved only for his mother. "Should I take this to mean I am no longer bound to my previous punishment?" he asked wryly. His gaze slithered snake-like up to the High Table where the All-Father and Thor stood side by side before returning to the adoring face of the Queen.

Frigga made a sound of both exasperation and love before pulling her son back into her embrace. It was the answer Loki wanted and one which Sif feared the consequences of.

As Loki ascended up the steps to the High Table, taking his former seat beside the Queen who never once let go of his hand, the Great Hall was already filling with the sound of whispered gossip and speculation. Sharp eyes were raking over the Royal Family examining their every move, scrutinising every detail of the newly returned Prince. How could one cheat death not once but twice? What did the dark Prince's return mean for the future of the Asgard? And if the Crown Prince had truly been overwhelmed with grief for his lost sibling then why were his eyes now full of anger and suspicion?

For her part, Sif simply slumped back into her seat and raised the nearest goblet to her lips. With a grimace of distaste she swallowed the last of the dark red liquid. No wonder that this was Loki's favourite wine: after the initial burst of seductive sweetness, it left nothing but bitterness in its wake.

* * *

_**Thank you all for reading and your kind words of encouragement. xo**_

_**Guest: Voila! I hope you enjoyed it xo**_

_**Guest: Aw thank you! Nothing like ripping up a reader's heart to make you feel like you're not doing too bad a job! I loved that you picked up on and enjoyed all those little nuances. Thanks again! Xo**_

_**Currently finishing up another Loki fic 'Temper' so have a teaser on me… : P**_

'_Loki pressed his forehead against hers, a strange mixture of anguish and pleasure playing upon his beautifully sculptured face. "Damn you Sigyn," his words were barely a whisper, his voice thick and almost choked with emotion. "Damn you."'_

_._


End file.
